Sins of Eve
by NBBligh
Summary: It started in the Paradise with the snake and Eve. Every day women pay for that moment, a ransom some men think they are entitled to. Warning for explicit and graphic violence in several chapters. All chapters rated M just in case. Spoilers! 4th season events
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Madam Secretary or the characters. I just like to play with them, usually gently, sometimes a bit rough.**

 **This story Will contain some more or less graphic material of violence of different sorts so it is rated M to protect those who do not wish to read such fanfictions.**

 **This is a work of fiction and Will not offer any spoilers the the actual series.**

* * *

Russell Jackson hated interns. They couldn't be trusted, they couldn't be relied on. What was the use of giving a task to someone and then fulfilling it yourself after they failed miserably.

He had to admit that Stephanie McCord… yeah, Stevie… had somewhat changed his mind on the issue. Well perhaps not changed. More like melted his opinions from ice to something a bit more mellow.

The White House Chief of Staff didn't really want to go to his evening meeting with Michael Farrell, a 26-year-old law student who also happened to be a nephew of someone Jackson used to know well. Mitch Farrell had lived across the street from Jackson and his first wife. On Tuesday he had phoned Jackson and asked him to consider Michael as an intern somewhere in the White House. Sudden thrust of nostalgy had pushed Jackson to a positive answer: he would interview the kid and if he showed any kind of promise, there would probably be an internship position available for him. More than an intern, Jackson was interested in getting a tight grip of Mitch Farrell. He had actually hated the man and if this meant the idiot would owe him a favor, no better outcome could be hoped for. So, Jackson decided to suck it up and just have a drink and perhaps a dinner with the boy.

* * *

He arrived at the hotel restaurant just before 8 PM. It looked like Michael had been waiting for a while and his wait had been anxious: there were several glasses in front of the young man. But when Jackson approached he got on his feet and shook his hand firmly. Apparently, the booze had not effected him all that much. And then again, perhaps he had not been alone while waiting.

"Thank you, Mr. Jackson, for meeting me. This is an honor," Michael said right away. Russell Jackson agreed, but he just gave the boy a short nod.

"Have a seat," he said and gave an order of a drink to the waitress who stopped by their table. The woman took all the empty glasses away and smiled briefly.

"How is school going?" Jackson opened the conversation. Michael didn't reply right away. Russell followed his gaze and saw a slim, tall blonde walk by a few tables away. He recognized the girl right away. Michael Farrell couldn't tear his eyes off the blonde's skirt-clad rear end. Jackson snapped his fingers.

"Michael, wake up," he said. Farrell looked at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What did you say, sir?" he asked.

"How is school going?" Jackson repeated the question.

"Quite well, sir. I am slightly ahead of schedule because I was given an opportunity to follow an actual case when my aunt had me as an intern last fall. I passed a course with that," Michael said. His eyes darted back to the blonde.

"That ought to be illegal," he muttered.

"What?" Jackson asked. Farrell pointed at the girl.

"Look at her. High class hooker, probably. Loose here among all these horny men," the guy said. Jackson felt rage flame up behind his eyes.

"Stop looking at the girl and pay attention to what is happening here," he snapped. Michael concentrated again, but only for a moment. As soon as they started talking about White House, his eyes wandered back to the blondie.

"Alright, Michael. I'm going to go to the men's room now and while I'm there, you will think very hard if you want this internship or not," Jackson said. Farrell managed to look penitent. Jackson got up and left. Only moments later Michael Farrell got up too and walked to the blondie sitting by the bar. She was drinking a cocktail of some kind and Farrell felt he had never seen anything sexier in his life.

"Hey, pretty," he said. The girl turned. Amazing, huge, blue-grey eyes, flowing blonde hair and that body… thank you Lord… Michael Farrell thought. His hand wandered down the girl's almost bare back.

"Hello, rude. Stop touching me," the girl said. Michael laughed.

"Come on. I have this semi-important meeting to sit through but how about you get yourself a drink and I get back to you as soon as I get rid of the old geezer and we can have some fun," Farrell suggested. The girl looked at him then she looked past him.

"Would that be the old geezer you mean?" she asked. There was something slightly warning in her voice. Michael turned and saw Russell Jackson stare at him from the table they had been sitting at. The man's eyes screamed murder.

"If I were you, I would apologize and leave. Fast," the blondie said.

"What's it to you?" Michael asked.

"Good evening, Mr. Jackson," the girl said, ignoring Michael. Russell Jackson had just reached them.

"Good evening, Stephanie McCord," Jackson replied. His voice was tight as if he had to force the words out of his mouth.

"You know her? What a guy. You hump her too?" Michael asked. Stevie slid down the bar stool and ended up between them.

"No one is humping anyone," she said.

"She is my intern," Jackson managed to say between his gritted teeth and stepped past her.

"What? You fuck your intern?" Farrell exclaimed.

"No one is fucking anyone," Stevie tried.

"Leave," Jackson spat, staring into Farrell's eyes. Farrell hit him.


	2. Chapter 2

Stephanie McCord had seen fights before. She was after all the eldest of three siblings. He had also seen fights on TV and movies, but she couldn't really recall seeing two adult men fighting.

It was no fight. That arrogant young idiot just hit Russell Jackson without any warning.

Surprisingly Jackson took the hit on his feet. The man's head turned some, absorbed the motion energy, gave way to avoid fractures… gosh, it was like Russell Jackson had known something about boxing.

"You hit like a pre-school kid. Even she could do worse," Jackson mocked the guy. Stephanie wanted to laugh but the situation didn't really call for more tension. Farrell seemed eager to show he could do better, but then Jackson's driver Ben was there.

"Sir, are you alright?" the bulky DS agent asked.

"Yeah. Escort him out, will you," Jackson said, and Ben gave him a court nod. When the driver and Farrell were far enough, Jackson leaned on the bar desk and shook his head.

"Mr. Jackson!" Stevie said and laid a gentle hand on his arm. The bartender handed her a towel and she noticed he had wrapped some ice inside it.

"Thank you," she said and pulled Jackson by the arm to turn him. The man looked up and Stevie gave him the ice-towel-first-aid.

"Thanks," Jackson said and pressed the bundle on the side of his mouth.

"What was that?" Stevie asked. Jackson snorted a laugh.

"His uncle asked me to interview him for an intern position at the White house," the Chief of Staff said.

"Chances, much," Stevie said. Jackson's second laugh was even shorter.

"You wait for someone?" he asked.

"Yes, Jareth," Stevie said. Russell Jackson looked at her, puzzled.

"I thought that was over?" he asked. Stevie felt her jaw drop. How the hell did the White House Chief of Staff know about her dating status? Or why would he even care?!

"Yeah, it kind of is, but we were together for a while and we just need to talk," Stevie said. Jackson nodded.

"I understand that. Well, have fun," he said.

"Will you be alright?" Stevie asked, worried. Jackson huffed.

"Yeah, not the first time someone done this. Although rarely it's been such a useless attempt," he said. Then the man laid the towel on the bar, thanked the bartender, left a bill by the towel and walked out.

The next day Stephanie McCord walked to the office of White House Chief of Staff. The outer office was empty; Adele was most likely getting a file or taking a file somewhere or perhaps she was having lunch. Stevie knocked on the inner office door and opened it. Russell Jackson was sitting by his desk, feet casually on the hardwood table, a file on his lap and the man's frameless eyeglasses were tossed on the desk. He looked up.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Mr. Jackson, would you have a moment?" she asked very politely. Jackson's reply was a bark-like laugh.

"Have you forgotten my speech about having a moment?" he asked.

"16-hour work day and all that?" she replied.

"That," Jackson confirmed. After a while he looked up again. Stevie was still standing by the door. Jackson sighed, tossed the file on the desk, took his glasses, checked his phone, got up, walked to the door, closed it, pointed at a chair by the desk, sat down behind the desk and said:

"Speak!"

Stephanie McCord wasn't sure when she had stopped being afraid of Russell Jackson and when her fear had turned into deep, respectful affection. Perhaps when she had smashed into the man and poured 4 mugsful of coffee on him, and he didn't kill her, or maybe right after that, when although in a hurry, under a lot of stress and absolutely out of time, Russell Jackson had first asked her if she was alright and then told her she didn't need to worry about her mother, which was easier said than done. Or perhaps it was when at the brink of Government shutdown Jackson had taken her with to see the President meet veterans on his own accord, without press, without publicity and he had shown that to Stevie just to explain what kind of man Conrad Dalton was.

Fear had turned into utmost respect.

But it still didn't mean she ever wanted to piss him off. So, she spoke.

"Late last night my friend at the college was returning from the campus library. She walked through the park and someone attacked her. What should she do? Legally?" Stevie asked. Russell Jackson looked at her steadily.

"Are you telling the truth? Do you speak of your friend or is this you who we talk about?" he asked.

"I am telling the truth. We speak of my friend," Stevie assured him. Jackson rolled his chair next to Stevie and leaned back. The chair sides hid the man's face from Stevie.

"Tell me everything," he said. Stevie told him the whole story her friend had told her. It was easier to speak that way, to tell how her friend had been dragged in the middle of a bush, how her clothes had been torn off and how she had been raped, when she couldn't see his face. When she had finished her story, he leaned forward.

"Stevie, was it a friend or was it you?" Russell asked. His voice was completely without emotion.

"It was my friend, Mr. Jackson. I promise you, that is true," she said. Jackson drew a shuddering breath.

"Good. Then I don't have to kill anyone myself," he said. Stevie had been wrong. The man's voice was not emotionless: it was so full of rage, that it sound colder than ice.


	3. Chapter 3

The Chief of Staff got up and picked his phone from the desk. A quick glance to the window drove him to the wardrobe where his coat was.

"Text Ben. Five minutes. No, make that ten," Jackson said and walked to the rear door which lead closer to the Oval Office. When Stevie didn't get up, he looked back.

"Can't walk and text?" he asked.

"Eh… yes…" Stevie said, embarrassed.

"Walk then. Take your coat," he said. This was one of his whims, when he didn't really offer any information as to where they were going or why, but Stevie didn't even dream of not following. She ran to the outer office, got her jacket and then ran back through Jackson's office. She caught him by the doors that lead to the Oval Office. Jackson rapped his knuckles on the door and walked in.

"Russell," Dalton acknowledged.

"The Fiestman file, Mr. President," Jackson said and laid a black cardboard file on the President's table.

"Thank you. You wouldn't happen to have a moment to discuss something?" Dalton asked. Jackson glanced at Stevie who was standing at the threshold, unsure if she should step in or not.

"Hi, Stevie," Conrad Dalton said. Stevie smiled.

"Good day, Mr. President," she said.

"Can it wait?" Jackson asked. Dalton gave him a nod.

"It can wait for a while," he assured.

"Good. Shouldn't be gone for more than an hour or two," Jackson said. Dalton waved his hand and took his phone that was chirping on the desk. Jackson lead Stevie out and to the yard where Ben was already waiting.

"Where are we going?" Stevie asked.

"You tell me. Where does that friend of yours live?" Jackson asked back. Stevie felt her jaw drop.

"Umm… at the dorm," she said.

"Tell Ben where to drive," Jackson ordered and got in the car. His eyes were glued to the screen of his mobile phone. Stevie gave Ben the directions, feeling like a complete idiot at the same time. Then she got in the car with Russell. He looked up briefly but kept on texting.

"Is she alone?" Jackson asked suddenly.

"She…? Oh, no. There's another girl there. I told her not to let Pauline take a shower to keep her options open," Stevie said. Jackson's head jerked up and he locked eyes with Stevie.

"Smart girl," he said approvingly and then kept on texting.

* * *

The dormitory was clearly divided so that girls and boys, the barely over 18-year-old, hormonally crazy youths, wouldn't be spending too much time together. Stevie lead Jackson and Ben up the stairs to the third floor and stopped at a door.

"This is she," Stevie said.

"Make sure she's decent," Russell Jackson said and pocketed his phone. Stevie knocked on the door and opened it. From the corridor Jackson saw two almost identical girls sitting on a bed. Both were blonde, both had long hair, and both looked tall enough to walk the catwalks. When Stevie sat down with them, he noticed how alike they all were.

"It could have been her," he muttered to himself. The thought filled him with such rage that it was hard for even him to comprehend. Last night when Michael Farrell had placed his hand on Stevie's back, Jackson had not felt much more than irritation, but the moment she had told him to stop touching her and he hadn't complied, Russell Jackson had felt a rush of anger that almost made him lose his temper. This feeling was much alike. If someone did to Stevie what someone had done to Pauline, the McCords wouldn't have to bother about revenge: Russell Jackson would tear the animal in tiny pieces and roast those on slow burning fire. And then he felt the all-too-familiar tight, squeezing feeling around his chest. His ears were ringing and suddenly he felt dizzy. Jackson leaned against a wall and tried to control his breathing. Ben turned and looked at him.

"Mr. Jackson? Are you alright, Mr. Jackson?" the younger man worried. Russell's breathing was uneven, pained.

"Mr. Jackson?" Ben tried again. He took hold of Jackson's arm and helped him stay up. Slowly the tight feeling started to give in. Russell took deeper breaths and felt the dizziness go away.

"Yeah… I'm… OK… soon," Jackson said. He was still panting like a dog but at least the pain was gone.

"Do you need something? Water?" Ben asked. He knew about Jackson's heart condition, but he had never seen the man react like this. Russell waved his hand.

"I'm OK," Jackson assured him and pushed away from the wall. His timing was perfect because Stevie stepped in the corridor and invited him in.

Jackson walked into the dorm room and realized he hadn't been in one in years. There was an empty chair and he pulled it closer and sat down.

"I won't make this long. Long and hard comes with the court and the procedures. I will just say my piece and leave," Jackson said. All three young women nodded. Jackson breathed evenly and searched for the right words.

"They say to girls… don't go out late at night. Don't go alone. Don't… wear clothes that might reveal too much. That is bullshit! Even if you walked stark naked out there and danced in the rain, no-one, and I fucking mean NO-ONE would have the right to do, what was done to you. They will say to you that somehow, somewhere you made the mistake of seducing him. Perhaps you looked at him too long someplace or perhaps you smiled at the wrong time. Again: Bullshit! It is not your fault. It is never the victim's fault. Even if you agreed to have sex with him, the moment you said 'No!' or 'Stop!' and he kept going, it became a rape. I'm sorry. I call things as they are. Sexual predators hide behind technicalities, they get away because the society allows them to. Pauline, nothing, NOTHING that happened, was your fault. Now you will have to decide whether you will claim your right to say no, or carry this thing for the rest of your life in silence. No doubt, you will have to live with this for the rest of your life, but you choose how you live with it. Will you let it take you down or will you tell the perp what he did was wrong," Jackson said. Or ranted, but then again that was more of a trademark for him. Then he got up, went to the corridor, told Ben to stay with Stevie and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry, readers I am kind of stuck with this. I have a direction to take this story but I'm having trouble finding the bridge between then and now and that's why you poor readers are stuck with a couple of... or a few... very un-related, strangely lame chapters.**

 **I also realized that my stories do offer spoilers for people who have not seen season 4 of Madam Secretary. I am awfully sorry for that.**

* * *

Russell Jackson sat on a sofa in the Oval Office. It was like second home to him, but he had no desire for the office to be his to call his own. No, Russell Jackson was more than content being the force behind the President, the one man this POTUS could always rely on. Yes, this POTUS. He wasn't very much interested in supporting any other presidents, not even anyone from his own party. He had realized the change in his way of seeing things a while ago, but this was probably the first time he formed the thought into words, even when he didn't say it out loud.

Conrad Dalton walked into his office and noticed Jackson on the sofa.

"Russell, good afternoon," he said.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President. You had something you wanted to discuss?" Jackson asked. Dalton took a file and brought it to the sofa. He sat down on the other sofa and looked at Russell.

"It's about… Russell? Are you alright?" he asked. Jackson was breathing deliberately slow and his face was completely pale. Conrad got up and laid his hand on Russell's shoulder.

"Russell?" he asked. Jackson raised a hand.

"Sorry… sorry," he said.

"What is it? Are you having a heart attack? Stupid question…" Dalton mocked himself.

"No, no… I'm sorry," Russell repeated and slowly his breathing started to pick up pace and the skin color started to return to normal. He leaned back and laid a hand on his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said the third time. Dalton sat down.

"Stop telling me you are sorry and tell me what is wrong," the President said. Jackson shook his head a bit, then he looked at Dalton.

"I… had bit of arrhythmia today," he said.

"Arrhythmia? Russell, what the hell?" Conrad was alarmed. Jackson took a few deep breaths and then he told Dalton about Stevie's friend.

"Oh, dear Lord," Dalton said quietly. Jackson's hand squeezed to a fist.

"The thought… even the thought that someone doing that to Stephanie McCord… I can't even let myself think of it. Just the mere thought fills me such rage…" Russell searched for words. Conrad's nod was slow.

"My cousin's daughter was attacked. She got off a bus and was walking to her friend's home. She could see the house when two men attacked her, dragged her to the woods and raped her," Conrad told him. Russell shook his head slowly.

"She was 13 years old," Dalton said.

"Thirteen? By everything that is holy…" Jackson said quietly. Conrad Dalton nodded.

"Is there anything I can do? I mean about Stevie?" he asked.

"I don't know. I left Ben with her," Jackson said.

"What?" Dalton asked, not understanding what the Chief of Staff meant. Jackson waved his hand a bit.

"Sorry. I mean, I left my driver with Stevie and put a request in DS for temporary detail for her. I wouldn't mind her having a permanent one, but I know she wouldn't be comfortable with that. But for now, she's going to have to suck it up," he said.

"Why?" Dalton asked. Jackson jumped on his feet and started pacing. Then the man halted.

"Because I breathe easier, knowing she isn't walking out there alone," he said. Dalton raised his hands in surrender.

"Russell I'm not arguing, I'm just asking," he said. Jackson's chest heaved.

"I don't know, sir. I just don't know. I don't want to think of her out there alone with this predator animal skulking around the university. I can't think of it. Letting that thought in my mind makes me so angry I can hardly stop myself from going out there and finding the asshole myself," the Chief of Staff confessed.

"And do what?" Dalton asked. Jackson's temper flared. He ranted at Elizabeth McCord, he yelled at other people but hardly ever he lost control with Conrad Dalton.

"Do what? Give me ten minutes alone with that beast and I will rip his throat open with my bare hands," he growled. Dalton got up. Slowly he pushed Jackson to the sofa and pressed the man on the seat.

"Russell, arrhythmia and your temper simply don't match. I understand you. You don't have any idea how many times I have thought what I would do to the assholes who raped my cousin's child. I shouldn't have asked what I just asked," Dalton said. Jackson shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President. I was out of line," he said quietly. Dalton patted his shoulder.

"It's alright. Forget it," he said and sat back on the other sofa. Jackson breathed deeply.

"OK, Mr. President. You wanted to talk about something?" he asked. Dalton chuckled.

"Yes. The dam," he said. Jackson groaned.

"No," he said. Dalton's expression was surprised.

"No?" he asked.

"No," Jackson confirmed.

"Where is this coming from?" Dalton inquired. Russell's sigh was heavy. He counted issues with fingers.

Thumb.

"The river turned into a lake would sink an entire suburb."

Index finger.

"The highway is so close to the lake embankments that the flooding issue would be raised every spring."

Middle finger.

"50 thousand people need that river running at daily bases. The lake would not cover the needs."

Ring finger.

"The budgeting committee refuses to extend the funding period. One slip in the construction and the entire project gets buried in the senate for months and the local people are stuck with half-assed semi river-lake."

Pinkie.

"The whole construction plan lays on a company that's owned by a corporation with deep ties to the Capitol. The whole project smells like a tradeoff you'd be explaining in front of congress hearing for months."

Jackson raised his eyebrows, leaned back and let his words sink in. Dalton was not happy, Russell could see that, but Conrad knew he would rather break his own arm than let the President make devastating mistakes. Dalton gave a deep sigh.

"Fine," he said. Jackson got up.

"If that was all…?"

"One more thing, Russell," POTUS said.

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"I will call Carol tomorrow and make sure you told her about the arrhythmia," Dalton warned. Jackson looked at him slightly stunned.

"Excuse me?" he asked. Dalton nodded.

"Don't think for a minute I won't," he said. Jackson shook his head and walked out.

"Have a good evening, Mr. President," he said at the door.

"You too, Russell," Dalton replied.


	5. Chapter 5

**This is the second boring chapter, I think. Well, let's hope my brain can find the path to the storyline soon or you will all fall asleep reading these. Yes, I am sometimes a bit harsh on myself but I'm quite sure you all agree this could have some more action in it...**

* * *

Elizabeth McCord walked out of the Oval Office. It was 6 PM and she had a good chance to have some relaxing time with her family tonight. The door to the Chief of Staff's office was ajar and she saw light there. Good, catching Russell Jackson now would save her from talking to him in the morning, she figured so she stepped in.

Russell Jackson was standing by the window, staring out.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said. Jackson didn't turn.

"I bet she's worth way more than that to you," he said cryptically.

"Who?" Bess asked and walked closer.

"Your daughter," Russell said.

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth couldn't follow. Russell turned around.

"I got Stevie a DS detail," he said. Elizabeth felt a shiver run down her spine. She halted in the middle of the room.

"And you did that because…?"

"Because Stevie's friend was raped last night at the campus and I'll be damned if I let that happen to Stevie," Russell said.

"Oh my God!" Bess breathed and sat on Jackson's chair. Russell leaned on his desk, not bothered by Elizabeth's invasion. He took a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry, Bess. That was… that was shitty even from me," he said.

"Are you serious?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah, I really am sorry," Russell said.

"No, no, I mean about… rape?" Bess asked. Russell nodded.

"Yes. She had returned from the library late at night and someone attacked her. The perpetrator escaped and I have not spoken with Stevie yet to find out if she went to the police or not," Jackson told her.

"How do you know about this and I don't?" Elizabeth asked.

"Stevie asked me for legal advice. What should her friend do. I talked with the girl, probably scared her out of her wits and left her to make the decision. Stevie and one other girl were there too, so I guess she's not alone," Russell said.

"Are you alright?" Bess asked quietly, touching Jackson's hand. Russell caressed her fingers absentmindedly.

"They say… women are the root of all evil in this world. Tasting the fruit in Paradise made Eve the sinner and all the women around the world pay for her mistake even today. Not because God would want that, no. Just because men like to blame someone for being assholes. It wasn't me, it was her. She seduced me. It wasn't me, it was her. She looked like she was willing. The sins of Eve follow women and really… what sins? Why can't men just learn to keep it in their pants and act civil? Every year thousands of women suffer because men think that having the plumbing on the outside makes them some kind of overlords of the fucking creation. News flash. It doesn't. It just makes us the weaker sex, not being able to control the urges. Men are really just less than a step above animals," Russell said. His words were passionate, but the tone was emotionless. Elizabeth got up and put her hand on Jackson's shoulder.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Russell asked.

"For caring," Bess said and walked out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright we are finally moving from total boredom to the actual business. Just moving, not there quite yet...**

 **So apologies... But some things are worth the wait (I hope this is too)**

 **Awfully sorry for the extra line there in the middle of the phonecall. I put it there By mistake and now I can't take it out.**

* * *

It wasn't that he didn't want or plan to tell Carol about the arrhythmia, nor had he a specific intention to hide what had happened, he just didn't see his wife all evening. When Russell Jackson got home, unusually early for his schedule, Carol was nowhere to be found. After two hours of waiting, Jackson called her mobile phone. She was at surgery where a nurse turned the cellphone on speaker.

"Carol?" Russell Jackson asked.

"Hello love. I'm sorry. We have a bit of an emergency here and this may take a while. Actually, a long while," Carol Jackson's voice was apologetic.

"It's ok. I just got a bit worried," Russell admitted. Carol's reply was a soft laugh.

"Will you be OK?" she asked.

"Yes, I will be," Russell assured her.

* * *

When Russell Jackson woke up in the morning, he realized that Carol wasn't home. He got up and called the hospital reception desk.

"Morning, Russell Jackson calling for Carol Jackson," he said. The nurse recognized him right away.

"Good morning Mr. Jackson. Dr. Jackson is at the back lounge. She decided to stay here to rest for a while to avoid driving when she is very tired. I will go and wake her up…"

"No. Don't wake her up. I just wanted to make sure she is alright," Russell said. The nurse, whom Russell distantly recalled from some occasion he had gone to meet Carol at the hospital, laughed softly.

* * *

"Thank you. I didn't really want to wake her up," she admitted.

"Could you do me a favor?" Jackson asked.

"Of course, Mr. Jackson," the nurse said.

"When she wakes up, ask her to call me," Russell said.

"Of course, Mr. Jackson," the nurse said.

* * *

Russell Jackson got ready and left for work. Ben, his driver looked at him carefully.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson," he said.

"Morning, Ben. Do you know if Miss McCord got her own detail?" Jackson asked.

"Yes. Would you like to have the details?" Ben asked.

"Yes," Jackson confirmed.

"His name is Carl. 32, ex-marine. DS for three years now. I already sent his contact details to your phone," Ben said.

"Good. Thank you," Jackson said and fell to silence.

* * *

Stephanie McCord knocked on Russell Jackson's office door. She opened it right away and stepped in.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson," she said.

"Morning, Stephanie McCord. How did it go?" Jackson asked.

"It went well, thank you. She went to the hospital and the police was called there. She gave a statement and then Ben took us back to the dorm. Thank you for that Mr. Jackson," Stevie said.

"How are you?" Jackson asked. Stevie walked closer.

"A little rattled but better than yesterday. Thank you," she said. Jackson nodded.

* * *

Conrad Dalton stopped at Adele's desk where Carol Jackson was talking with the assistant.

"Carol," he said.

"Conrad," Dr. Jackson said and smiled. Conrad hugged her gently.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm alright. We had a situation at the hospital last night," she told the President.

"A situation?" Dalton asked.

"There was a car accident on the highway and one of the drivers was my patient," Carol said. Conrad weighed his options for a moment and made a decision:

"Did he tell you?" he asked. Carol looked at him quizzingly.

"Did who tell me what?" she asked.

"Did Russell tell you about the arrhythmia?" Dalton wanted to know. He knew the answer right away. Carol's face gave it away.

"No… he didn't," she admitted. Then she laid her hand on Conrad's arm.

"Then again we haven't seen each other in over 24 hours. I spent the night at the hospital," Carol said. Conrad gave her a court nod.

"Alright," he said. Carol squeezed his arm.

"Thank you for telling me," she said. Dalton laughed a little.

"I feel like I was squealing," he admitted. Carol laughed too.

"Thank you for being a telltale," she said. Then she patted Dalton's arm.

"I'll go now and see him," she said.

"OK, Carol. See you," Dalton said and left. Carol went in Jackson's office. Russell looked up from a file, smiled and got up.

"Hey, baby," he said and walked to her. Carol stepped into his arms.

"Hey love," she said. Jackson hugged her gently. Then he took her to the sofa and they sat down. He caressed her face gently.

"Was it bad?" he asked.

"It was a pile-up and one of my patients happened to be involved. But that wasn't all. We had to stay in to take care of all the casualties," Carol told him. Then she took his wrist between her fingers and turned her watch around. Russell startled a bit but then he realized:

"Who told you?" Jackson asked.

"Conrad. I just met him out there," she said.

"I would have told you, I just didn't want to shout it out to the whole surgery," he said. Carol stifled a laugh and kept on counting.

"It's alright now," she said finally. Jackson nodded.

"Will you be home today when I get there?" he asked. Carol smiled.

"I'm going home now and then I'll take a bubble bath and then I'll enjoy having the entire afternoon off," she painted a luxurious picture. Russell laughed.

"Alright. Have fun," he said. Carol got up.

"I know you have work to do so yes, I will go home and most likely I'll just sleep," she admitted. Russell laughed.

"Most likely," he said.

* * *

After 1 PM Jackson stepped into the Oval Office.

"Mr. President," he said.

"I told her," Conrad said. Russell looked him in the eye.

"I know," he said.

"You didn't tell her," Dalton pointed out.

"I didn't really have a chance to tell her," Jackson said and laid a file on POTUS's desk.

"I told you I would ask her if you have told her," Dalton kept going on. Jackson halted. He looked at the president calmly.

"Yes, sir you did. Was there anything else?" he asked. Dalton got up in one swift movement.

"What the hell are you playing at, Russell?" POTUS yelled. Jackson stepped back, completely baffled by this sudden explosion.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President but… I don't understand," Jackson admitted. Dalton shoved him. Jackson took three steps back and stared at him.

"Mr. President, what is going on?" he asked.

"You half-wit, arrogant little asshole! Do you think people enjoy watching you laying on the ground, receiving CPR?" POTUS all but screamed. Jackson took two more steps back. Dalton followed suit.

"I… I'm sorry," Russell said.

"You better be! You were damn lucky last time to have Stevie McCord be there for you and save your miserable life! What if next time you are alone? What if there was no one there to save you?" Dalton kept on yelling. This was something completely new. Usually it was Jackson who took care of the ranting.

"Mr. President, I think I better leave, now," Russell said.

"Yeah, you better. Don't bother to come back either!" POTUS yelled. Jackson walked out.

* * *

Ben stopped in front of Jackson's house.

"I'll go back… sometime," Jackson said.

"Yes, sir," the driver said and Russell got out of the vehicle. He went in and met an amazed pair of eyes. Carol looked at him, checked her watch and looked at him again.

"Russell?" she asked. Chief of Staff breathed deeply and hugged her.

"POTUS threw me out of the Oval Office," Russell said.

"Threw you out?" Carol asked.

"Yes. He also told me not to come back but I know he didn't mean that. This is some kind of reaction to the heart attack and the arrhythmia," Jackson admitted. Carol kissed his temple.

"I really doubt he would fire you," she said.

"I came home for a reason," Russell said.

"OK… I suppose I am not the reason," Carol asked. Russell hugged her again.

"You are my only reason, my love," he said quietly.

"I love you," Carol said.

"I love you too," Russell replied.

"So, what really brought you home?" she asked. Russell took hold of her hand and walked her to the study. He pointed at the sofa and went to a cabinet in the far end of the room. He took out a box and brought it to the low table by the sofa. He sat next to Carol, took a few deep breaths and opened the box.


	7. Chapter 7

There were photographs, a few letters and some other memorabilia in the box. Russell Jackson did not touch the items fondly, he did not caress them. In fact they seemed to be quite indifferent to him. But he was looking for something. A stack of photos was almost on the bottom and he pulled those out. Quickly he flipped through them until he found the one he was looking for. Russell put the others away, closed the box and then he gave the photo to Carol.

"Why do you have a photo of Stephanie McCord here?" she asked. Russell raised his eyebrows.

"Look again," he said. Carol turned the photo to the light.

"Oh… no, it's not her. Sure looks like her but this one is older, or perhaps rather more mature," Carol commented.

"That is Claudia Milton. She worked with my ex-wife. They had this Sex and the City -type of girls' ring. Tight and loyal. I think Claudia was the youngest and Sarah the oldest. The other two I can't remember at all. Her I do remember," Russell told her.

"Why? Did you… I mean…" Carol didn't quite get the words out of her mouth. Russell laughed.

"No, we didn't," he assured her. Then he took his jacket off and pulled the tie loop over his head too. He flexed his back muscles, tilted his head to ease the neck and then he started:

"Soon… perhaps 6 months after that picture was taken, Claudia Milton vanished for a few days. She was found in an empty railroad car at the railyard. She had been raped, mutilated and tortured so badly, that her being alive was nothing short of a miracle. Claudia's face had been smashed with something heavy. Her nose was broken and both cheekbones were crushed so that her face was just one flat, bloody mess. She lost her left eye and eight teeth. The torture had taken three days. There were healing wounds that showed the timeline. All that time she had been repeatedly penetrated by human organ and other items like bottles and other things that suited the… form. Someone had pulled thick masses of hair off her head and her breasts were cut so deep that the yellow fat tissue could be seen. Whoever did that, truly hated her, said the detective who was investigating the case. They had several suspects. Even I was interviewed. They were covering all bases. Claudia could only tell that the man was big and strong. But in her weakened state, anyone could have seemed big and strong so even a weasel like me fell in the category of possible suspects because I happen to have a dick."

"Oh Russell… that is horrible. I mean… everything that was done to her. Oh God," Carol said quietly. Russell pulled her close with one arm, let her rest her head on his chest and continued.

"She couldn't identify anyone for it. She didn't come out of her apartment, she refused to meet people, she was afraid of everyone and everything. The doctors told her they could fix her face partially, but the damage was too extensive for full recovery. That was probably the worst thing for her. Three months later she got out of her apartment for the first time, climbed on the roof of her apartment building and jumped down," Russell finished the story.

"Oh God…" Carol whispered. Russell's chest rose and fell steadily but Carol could feel his heartbeat turn uneven.

"Russell?" she asked and got up.

"It's ok. I just… I have not forgotten the sight," he said. Then he shook his shoulders and looked at Carol.

"I know this sounds too crazy to be true, but you said it yourself. She looked exactly like Stevie McCord. But so does Pauline," he said.

"Who is Pauline?" Carol asked and Russell told her about Stevie's friend.

"What if the rapist was actually hunting for Stevie and just… raped the wrong girl? Stevie told me that the guy had tried to take Pauline someplace but she had resisted enough and he had just raped her there," Russell said.

"Are you trying to tell me that the same man raped and tortured that woman you and your ex-wife used to know and this Pauline?" Carol asked.

"I know it's crazy… but I just have this feeling I can't shake," Russell tried to make her understand.

"Russell, who ever raped this Claudia, is most likely too old to… do such thing," Carol said.

"I know. I know. But… what if he is not alone? I know I'm not a damn detective, but I can't get over this thought," Russell said. His words were angry but his tone sound desperate.

"Why would someone rape women you know? To frame you?" Carol asked. Russell shook his head tiredly.

"I have no idea. I don't know. I probably sound like freaking Fox Mulder from the X-Files," he huffed.

"Slightly, yes, love. But if you and this Claudia weren't having an affair, why would anyone try to get to you through her?" Carol asked. Russell placed his right hand on his chest. The tight squeezing feeling was there again.

"I don't… I don't know. I didn't fuck her. It's not like the 30 years younger me was all that sexier than who I am today," he said. Carol pulled his hand from his chest, pushed him down to lay on the sofa and sat next to him.

"Firstly, you are sexier than you think, well at least to me and that is certainly enough and secondly, stay still," she said. Carol got up and fetched a glass of cold water. Then she came back and helped him drink. The tightness started to ease.

"Is this what you felt yesterday too?" she asked.

"Yes."

"It's not arrhythmia. It's a mild panic attack," she said. Russell stared at her.

"What?" he asked.

"Yes. Not arrhythmia. Your heart is beating pretty wildly, but it's not that. This is an anxiety attack, or a panic attack, if you will. You have a history of PTSD. Anything could have caused this. You indicated that you saw Claudia after the jump?" Carol asked.

"I found her. Well, Sarah and me, but yes, we found her. Just then. If we got there 30 seconds earlier she would have landed on either one of us," Russell said. Carol caressed his chest.

"Baby, this all just piles up with what happened to Stevie's friend and you're feeling it very strongly. I have to admit that the thought of this attacker being the same as the one who raped Claudia is a wild thought and by laws of physics almost impossible but if the man was young enough then, 30-some years ago, then it's still possible he would be physically able to perform," she said.

"OK so I should keep my mouth shut?" Russell asked.

"No. I think you should talk with the detective. Just tell him or her about this and… perhaps it's a lead they can use," Carol suggested.

"After you talked sense into me… I kind of think it is X-Files material, but it's still a feeling I can't shake," Russell said.

"Then talk to the cop," she said and got up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Slowly it's getting where I want it to be.**

* * *

Russell Jackson walked into the police station and asked for anyone who investigated special victims. After a few wrong turns he found the detectives who had interviewed Pauline at the hospital.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson, but we can't talk about an open case with an outsider," the female detective said. Russell nodded.

"I understand that, but you can listen, can't you?" he asked.

"Sure, that we can do," the partner, a heavy-set guy with brown hair said.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Jackson," detective Grier said. She pointed at a chair and sat across the table. The partner, detective Burns, leaned on a low cabinet. Russell laid the photograph on the table.

"That's the vic… no it isn't. That's her friend, the other blondie," detective Burns said. Jackson shook his head.

"No, actually this is Claudia Milton. She was brutally raped some 30 years ago," he said and gave the photo to detective Grier. She inspected it carefully.

"She looks exactly like the victim's friend. Yes, she looks like the victim too but more like the friend," she noted.

"Stephanie McCord," Jackson reminded her.

"I know. I just didn't realize you knew her," Grier said.

"Stevie McCord is my intern," Jackson told them.

"Where? Doing what?" Burns asked.

"At the White House," Jackson said. Seemed like these two had no idea who he was.

"What is your job there?" Grier proved him right.

"I'm the White House Chief of Staff," Jackson said. He saw the look the detectives shared. Both seemed to swallow an iron bar. Their postured turned straight and Russell was pretty sure they both wanted to stand up and salute him.

"Yes, well, Mr… Jackson. How do you think these cases are related, Mr. Jackson?" Burns tried to find his mental feet. Russell sighed deeply.

"That is the problem. It is just a feeling and I know you don't work based on feelings really but it's simply strange. I think whoever raped Pauline, attacked the wrong girl. They were aiming for Stevie. I know I may be completely mistaken and I hope I am. I hope this was a random thing, but I can't get over the gnawing feeling that it wasn't random," he said.

"Did you know this Claudia Milton?" Grier asked.

"Yes, she was one of my ex-wife's best friends," Russell told them.

"Was?" Burns asked.

"Yes. Few months after the attack she took her own life," Jackson told them.

"What was the attack like?" Burns asked. Jackson decided to take off the silk gloves and leaned back in the chair.

"She was brutally tortured which makes my theory even wilder because these sexual predators hardly ever de-escalate. Usually they start from light stuff like peeping and flashing and escalate to touch, rape and possibly torture and murder. Hardly ever it goes the other way around. That's why I think there's two, but they act together," he said.

"Were you a cop before?" Burns asked.

"Legal studies," Jackson told them. They both nodded.

"You mean some kind of apprenticeship," Grier guessed.

"I know the whole idea may be absolutely crazy and I'm probably just being paranoid but look at them. They could be twins," Jackson said and waved at the photograph.

"You are right. I mean they could be twins. Did you and your wife's friend share friends?" Burns asked.

"Pretty much everyone there was. The circle was a lot smaller 30 years ago. We socialized with people from work and our neighborhood, that's it. OK I admit my life isn't much larger these days. It's work and next door neighbors. My social life was and is limited to my wife's friends mostly. Of course, not my ex-wife's anymore," Jackson tried to explain.

"What does your wife do? The ex-one I mean," Burns kept on asking.

"She's a lawyer."

"And the current wife?" Grier asked.

"Doctor. Surgeon," Jackson told them.

"Do they share friends?" Burns asked.

"You mean my ex and my current wife? No," Russell said. And added 'Thank God' in his mind.

"We will look into this," Grier said. Jackson looked at her to find out if she was just saying that to get rid of him.

"It sounds kind of wild but the truth is we have no leads and Pauline said that the guy tried to take her somewhere but she had put up enough a fight to make him just change his mind," Grier kept going.

"Stevie told me she said that and that made me think the rapist wasn't working alone. But really, detectives, I know this all sounds weird. It's Twilight Zone -stuff to me too," Jackson admitted.


	9. Chapter 9

**Yes, on the right track I believe. Not so lost any more.**

 **My Madam Secretary fanfics are very Russell Jackson centered, as you all can see. I promise Bess will be in this one a bit more :)**

 **Thank you all for reviews. I appreciate them all!**

* * *

Russell Jackson sat behind his desk and went through the files Adele had left on the conference table. Nothing seemed too pressing and with photographic memory Jackson probably got through those twice as fast as others who had to read them. He never really brought it up anywhere, but he had admitted the odd skill to Elizabeth McCord when she had asked about it. Still, the files seemed at least twice as boring today than usual. The feeling of looming evil seemed to hang around and he simply couldn't shake it.

"Idiot!" he muttered to himself, knowing it wouldn't help to dwell in the past. But he knew what the problem was: he felt guilty for what had happened to Claudia Milton. No, he had told Carol the truth: he didn't sleep with Claudia, nothing of the sort. He just happened to meet her the evening when she went missing. There had been one particularly booze-filled evening at a bar where Jackson and four of his colleagues had celebrated a win after long, hard case in court. Jackson had met Claudia at the bar counter when he picked up a new set of shots, probably the 7th or 8th round by then and in his more than slightly drunken state he hadn't asked her if she would be OK getting home alone. He should have offered to call her a taxi or walk her home. It wasn't all that far after all. But booze and victory were the two things on his mind and, so he had let Claudia leave the bar alone. She wasn't in their company even, just happened to be at the same bar. But still, this was the one thing Russell Jackson never really forgave himself.

He knew more than well that what was done to Stevie's friend Pauline was in no way his fault, nor could he have prevented it, but the gnawing feeling of these attacks having something to do with him was impossible to shake, so he was plagued with the endless carousel of thoughts whirling around in his head. What if… what if the rapist was in some way connected to him? How could he ever look Stephanie McCord in the eye if he was the reason for her friend's suffering?

"Russell?" Jackson heard Conrad Dalton's low, somewhat emotional voice from the door. Russell got up and faced the President.

"Sir?" he asked.

"I didn't mean it, Russell. I really didn't," Dalton said. His voice was full of remorse.

"It wasn't arrhythmia," Jackson told him.

"What?"

"It wasn't arrhythmia. Seems like I had a mild panic attack, or anxiety attack. Depending what you want to call it," Russell said.

"How do you know?" Dalton asked.

"It happened again at home and Carol was there. She told me so. I'm inclined to take her word for it," Jackson admitted. Conrad Dalton came closer and sat down. Russell sat down too.

"What caused it?" he asked. Russell Jackson told him about Claudia Milton and the strange connection between the attacks.

"Don't tell me I'm crazy. I know the whole idea is close to crazy and wild at the best, but the feeling is there, and I can't shake it," he said. Conrad Dalton stared at his Chief of Staff.

"You are trying tell me that the rapist is somehow linked to you?" POTUS stated. Jackson leaned back and sigh deeply.

"Somehow. That's why you were right to tell me to leave. I will see that everything is in order and vacate the office…"

"NO!" POTUS growled.

"Sir, it is the only smart thing to do now. If the police come to a conclusion that I have something to do with the situation, even if it's just a vague connection to a serial rapist…"

"No!" Dalton repeated.

"Sir…"

"No! I know that you would never hurt anyone like that. You would never rape anyone, and you would not hurt people intentionally. Well, politically maybe, but that is something entirely else. I know you well enough to be sure of this. I respect you and I know you are the best Chief of Staff I could ever have. You are not going anywhere. What I said… telling you to get out and stay out… I have rarely been as scared as the day you had that heart attack. I care about you and I would hate to see you go through again. Yes, I am a bit selfish here: I know what it did to me is nowhere near to what it did to you. I need you to calm down or whatever it takes to prevent that from happening again," Dalton said. The situation was slightly awkward: knowing how the other felt was something entirely else than actually hearing them say it.

"As your Chief of Staff I must advise you to fire me," Russell said.

"Well fuck that!" Conrad exclaimed.

"Yes, well… you don't always seem to take my advice…" Jackson noted. Dalton laughed a bit.

"No, not always," he admitted.

"If you choose not to fire me then…"

"No, I will not," Conrad confirmed.

"Then I suppose I better get on with the daily schedule the best I can and wait for the cops to do their job," Jackson offered. POTUS got up.

"Yes, Russell, that is what we will do," he said and left.

Jackson shook his head and sigh heavily. He felt like the entire day was on a huge loop: Everything kept on happening again and again. He had told his suspicions of the rapist at least three times, he had felt the heavy pressure on his chest at least as many times and yet still he knew nothing new. The same thoughts the same fears were spinning in his head. And then he realized he had to tell the story one more time.

* * *

"I know it's crazy and weird but somehow I can't get over the thought," Russell Jackson said. Elizabeth McCord poured whiskey to two tumblers and brought those to the sofa table. She sat down and took Jackson's hand in hers. The touch was gentle.

"Russell, I don't know if you are right or wrong but whichever way, know that I do not blame you for this. I have no idea how I would feel if it had been Stevie, but I know you are not responsible for other people's actions. Not like this. Yes, I know you can pull strings and you can do things that… well, things, but I also know you would never hurt people like that," Elizabeth said. Russell Jackson breathed deeply.

"Thank you for that," he said.

"I have no idea how your theory could be true, but I also know you wouldn't say things like that out loud if you didn't believe in it," Bess said.

"Well sometimes I just say stuff," Jackson admitted. Elizabeth laughed.

"Usually what you say has at least the seed of truth in it," she said. Jackson's laugh was short and lacked joy.

"This time I feel lost," he said. Elizabeth nodded.

"This Claudia Milton. You say you feel you could have prevented what was done to her if you had made sure she got a ride home or someone had walked her the short distance?" she asked. Jackson nodded.

"Truth is my ex was jealous of me, God only knows why. It's not like I was a good catch. I think it was more about possession than anything else. I didn't want to take the risk of her finding out that I walked an attractive woman home. I was also very drunk and lazy. Yes… I have twisted and turned that evening in my mind for 30-some years, but the truth is, I was simply too comfortable to leave the bar and walk those few blocks up and down to walk her home. And because I was too lazy, too drunk and too fucking comfy, she got raped and mutilated and then she took her life and no matter how much I twist it, I can't change the truth that I could have prevented it," Russell said. Elizabeth shook her head.

"I have done things and left some things undone that I regret, but I still can't really know what you are going through," she said quietly. Jackson leaned back and downed the whiskey. Elizabeth didn't even hesitate to pour the man another stiff drink.

"Thank you," he said.

"Who else was there?" Bess asked. Jackson's eyes stared somewhere far in time.

"William Bell, Dan Porter, Alan Mathews and… Carl… damn it, what's his name... Carl Xavier, that it is," Russell said.

"What happened?" Elizabeth continued. Jackson seemed confused.

"Happened? To Claudia?" he asked.

"No, I mean you saw her at the bar and took the shots to the table. What then?" the Secretary explained the question.

"We drank. I don't recall how many and how long, but I do know we drank a lot," Jackson said.

"What about when you left?" Bess asked.

"When we left… Mathews and Porter shared a cab, Bell, Xavier and I walked. We stopped by at Xavier's, his wife was pissed as hell. We heard her yelling at him well to the next block. Bell got similar welcoming and I went home the last. Sarah asked me where I had been, and I told her. I didn't mention seeing Claudia to avoid her asking if she had sat with us… I guess I had learned to protect myself from her fury by then," Jackson said and laughed a bit.

"Which way did Mathews and Porter go?" Bess asked.

"In relation to where Claudia lived you mean?" Jackson asked. Bess grinned.

"You are not just a pretty face," she teased him. Jackson's laugh was bitter.

"Pretty face my ass," he huffed but then he smiled.

"They went to the opposite direction and I know the cab driver was interrogated then. He had dropped them both at their home addresses and seen them step in the house. Of course there is no way to be sure they didn't leave their homes afterwards but Claudia Milton's neighbor said she had never heard her coming in that night. They shared a wall and she heard every time when Claudia came home or left the apartment. I guess she knew a lot more about Milton's life too. Old gossip…" Jackson said.

"It was just a few blocks, so she would have walked it in five, ten minutes. That means she should have reached her apartment a long time before any of you left the bar. The alibi seems pretty airtight to me, for all you five," Bess noted. Jackson nodded.

"Who else was at the bar?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have no idea. As I told you, I was drunk as hell and those days I wasn't so good at hiding it," Jackson said. Bess took the glass from his hand, pressed her fingers on his chest and pushed. Russell was way too polite to fight so he leaned back.

"Close your eyes," she said. Jackson did.

"Picture the bar in your mind," Elizabeth said.

"OK," he said.

"Tell me what you see," Elizabeth asked. Her voice was quiet and calm. Still holding her fingers on Jackson's chest, she could feel the man breathing slow down. His heart beat evenly and for a moment Bess thought he hadn't heard her question.

"The door was on the left. In the corner really. The entire wall was windows, a few tables in front of those. The bar was run by an Irish guy. It was mostly decorated accordingly. You stepped to the bar counter straight from the door. It was sideways there, long, kind of boomerang shape. The wall behind the bar counter was a large mirror, shelves in front of it and booze bottles on the shelves. There were 10 bar stools in front the counter, three of them occupied. The tables in the hall were here and there, a sliding door separating the back and the bar side was open. I saw no-one else I would have recognized," Jackson concluded.

"Not even passing by?" Elizabeth asked. Jackson took deep breaths that Elizabeth felt. She also felt his heartbeat take a sprint.

"Russell?" she asked. The man opened his eyes, leaner forward and pressed his own hand on his chest. Bess could hear the pain-filled attempt to draw breath.

"Russell!?"

"It's… damn…" Jackson panted. Elizabeth took her phone, but Russell laid a gentle hand on hers.

"It's… OK… Not a… heart attack…" he managed.

"What do you need?" Bess asked.

"Water…" Russell said. The pitcher in the office was empty so she went to the door.

"Blake, hurry!" she said and handed the pitcher to him. Only a moment later the man returned to the office and saw Russell Jackson sitting on the sofa, bent almost half from the waist, clutching his chest.

"Oh dear… should I call an ambulance?" he asked.

"Not yet at least," Bess said. She took a glass and poured some water in it. She pulled Jackson up a little and helped him drink. Slowly the man calmed down. Bess tilted her head a bit and Blake walked out.

"Easy Russell… what was that?" she asked.

"Panic attack, anxiety attack, which ever you wish to call it," Jackson said.

"Oh…" Bess said quietly. Russell looked at her.

"Yeah… oh," he said.


	10. Chapter 10

**OK, new chapter... I don't really enjoy blood and stuff so my warnings for violence may be a bit too extensive. But I am not yet sure where this will end up so yes, warnings stay.**

* * *

Moonlight shimmered through the window. Down close to the floor there was a dim nightlight that Carol always left on when he didn't manage to get home before she went to bed. Like tonight.

He leaned on the doorframe and watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful. Watching her filled him with peace, with love. Russell Jackson pushed himself straight and went downstairs to the study. He sat by the desk and let his eyes wander. Something caught his eye in the garden. This wasn't like Carol. She hardly ever bought new decorative items and if she did, she never hang them anywhere without asking for his opinion first. Not that he would have really cared, but Carol did it to prove him that he still had a say at his own home. As if he didn't know the truth: he was totally, utterly henpecked and not even ashamed of it. Carol could have told him to sleep on the basement floor and only come out at meal times and he most likely would have followed her orders to the dot. Not that she ever would give such orders. Probably.

Russell Jackson got up and went to the patio doors. He clicked the alarm off and stepped out. He walked to the shiny object that had caught his eye.

"What the hell…?" he asked out loud and picked up the CD- disc that was hanging from the branch. Right that moment he heard a twig crack and he turned. The two-by-two board smacked him to the side of his head. Russell Jackson fell.

* * *

"Where the fuck is she?" Jackson heard a voice ask.

"Wha…?" he managed.

"Where the fuck is your wife?" the voice asked.

"Leav…e my wife…alone…" Russell panted. His eyesight was blurred and the sound in his ears sound like the fire alarm.

"Where the fuck is your wife? Who's the whore in your bedroom?!" the male voice kept on asking.

"Wha…? What… you talk… about?" Jackson stammered.

"Where is Sarah?!" the voice asked.

"Sarah? Divorced… over 20 years ago…" Jackson puffed.

"Divorced?" the voice asked. Russell felt someone take a hold of his feet and then he was dragged over the lawn.

* * *

Jackson woke up feeling cold, hard concrete under his face. Hostage? Again? Twice in one year? This was starting to become a pattern he didn't really need. Slowly he turned on his back and realized no one had tied him up. He put his hand in the pocket and reached the mobile phone. It was amazingly unharmed. Then he heard a noise. As fast as he could he dialed 911 and pushed the button that prevented the call receiver's voice to be heard from his phone.

"Why are you doing this?" Jackson asked. The room was almost dark, so he couldn't see the person standing by the door. The voice belonged to a man and Jackson knew this wasn't the first time he had heard that voice.

"Where the fuck is Sarah? Tell me now or I will kill you, you miserable old fuck!" the man said. Russell Jackson could only hope that the 911 call had gone through and that someone was listening in.

"I… I have no idea. Our marriage ended more than 20 years ago. We don't keep in touch," Jackson said.

"You left her for what? For the whore upstairs?" the man asked.

"She is my wife. We have been married for over 20 years," Jackson said. His voice betrayed the rage he felt.

"You left Sarah for her?" the voice asked.

"No. I divorced Sarah way before meeting her," Jackson corrected the man. He heard the man come closer.

"You got them all," he said and kicked Russell in the head. The lights went out.

* * *

"Mr. Jackson? Can you hear me, Mr. Jackson?" a voice said.

"Russell? Oh God, Russell!" Carol Jackson exclaimed. The police tried to hold her back.

"I'm a doctor. Let me through!" she said and finally they let her go. She kneeled by Russell and he moaned softly.

"Did you see who did this to you?" one of the police officers asked him.

"No… I just heard him," Jackson managed. His head felt like a pumpkin. Very slowly he pushed himself on all fours.

"Perhaps you shouldn't get up?" the officer said.

"Can you help him?" Carol asked.

"Of course," the officer said and supported Russell gently.

"Thank you," Russell said when he finally got up.

"May I ask you to walk him to the ambulance?" Carol said to the police.

"Yes, sure," the man said. They moved slowly.

"How… the police?" Russell asked.

"You called 911," Carol said. Russell looked on the floor.

"My phone?" he asked. Carol patted his jacket pocket.

"Here," she said. Russell pulled the phone out. The glass was cracked but the light turned on when he touched a key. He moved in slow motion. His brain also seemed to work on slow-mo.

"To the ambulance," Carol said. They kept on moving slow and right outside the room the assailant had taken Jackson – their own garage – Russell almost fell.

"Hey, bring the stretcher here!" the officer shouted to the paramedics. The cop kept Jackson standing and then the paramedics were there. They helped Russell on the stretcher and took him to the ambulance.

"I'm coming with you," Carol said. They gave her room and she sat down by Russell. She took his phone and checked the time. Almost 6 AM so she didn't hesitate to call Conrad Dalton.

"Russell?" Dalton asked.

"No, this is Carol. We had an incident at home," Carol said.

"Carol, what happened? Is it his heart?" Conrad asked.

"No, I mean a real incident. Someone attacked him in the garden. I don't know yet what really happened because he got hit to the head and he hasn't been very coherent about what exactly happened," Carol explained.

"Are you at the hospital?" Dalton wanted to know.

"We are on our way there," Carol confirmed.

"I will meet you there," POTUS said and ended the call.

* * *

The hospital was quiet at 6 AM. Russell Jackson was rushed to a head CT to see the damage the hits to the head had caused. Carol gave them a fast, short version of Russel's medical history and the doctor ordered an EKG and multiple other tests to see how badly he was injured. Conrad Dalton walked into the hospital. He hugged Carol and asked if he could talk with Russell.

"Sure, he is right here," she said and guided Dalton to a hospital room.

"Thank you, Carol," he said and stepped in. Russell Jackson seemed to be asleep. His head was bandaged, and the man looked like he had taken a walk in a warzone.

"Russell?" Dalton asked quietly. Jackson opened his eyes.

"Mr. President," Jackson said. His voice was low and raspy. Dalton came closer.

"What happened Russell?" he asked. Jackson took deep breaths.

"I went outside… to see something and got a hit to the head. A 2by2 I think. Then I was dragged to the garage," Russell said.

"Do you have any idea who it was?" Conrad asked. Jackson shook his head slowly.

"I know I have heard his voice before, but I couldn't place it and I didn't see his face," Russell said.

"Did he say anything?" Dalton asked.

"He kept on calling Carol a whore and asking where my wife, Sarah was," Jackson said. Conrad stared at him.

"Sarah… your first wife?" he asked. Jackson looked at him.

"Yes," Russell said.

"So, whoever it was, it was someone who knew you when..."

"Fucking hell!" Jackson exclaimed.

"Russell?" POTUS asked.

"I know who the fucker is!" Jackson said.


	11. Chapter 11

**The plot thickens!**

 **Thank you for your continuing support. I love the reviews!**

* * *

Stephanie McCord woke up. Everything was pitch black. This had been happening for a while now. She had woken up somewhere around 2 AM and the following hour or two she spent thinking of her life, or whatever you wish to call it.

Strange how the streetlamps didn't give any light to the room. Usually she didn't need to use the nightstand light to walk to the bathroom but this time the room was so dark she couldn't even see the windows.

She turned on her side and the bed creaked. 'What on earth? Since when has my bed awaken the dead?' she thought and started to push herself up. Two things happened: first she realized she couldn't get up and then she heard Malena's voice.

"Stevie? Where are we?"

Stephanie McCord was not easily scared. She had a mother in one of the leading positions in the word, her father was a world-famous scholar and then some and she was working for one of the most feared men in the White House. No, she was by no scale a coward.

"What do you mean?" Stevie asked. Then she realized something was far from right. She didn't live at the dorm. She lived home with her mother and father and therefor at her waking hour, Malena Hunter should have been far away from her. She also had not decided to spend the night at the dorm in Malena's room, although their study session had taken a while longer than she expected.

"How are you in my bedroom?" Stephanie asked, trying to find some sense into the situation.

"I'm not. At least I don't think this is your bedroom. But this isn't my dorm room either. Where are we?" Malena asked again. She too was not easily scared and for a moment Stevie thanked her lucky stars for having Malena there, wherever 'there' was.

"Are you tied up?" Stevie asked quietly.

"There's something around my waist. I can't get up," Malena confirmed.

"What do you remember?" Stevie inquired.

"We were studying at the library. You were looking for some background information for that weird boss of yours and I was trying to finish an essay for the prof. When I dropped a pen for the fourth time, you said it was a high time for us to leave. The front door was closed, and the security guard wasn't there so we went to the back exit and after that there's nothing," Malena said.

"Why was the front door closed?" Stevie asked.

"Mr. Levy, the security guard closes it when he had to take care of something and he steps away from the desk. It doesn't happen in the daytime but after 7:30 PM he always closes the door, so he can keep count of who comes in and who goes out," Malena said.

"He didn't do that last year," Stevie said.

"No, but I think he is getting a bit old," Malena noted.

"I also recall us getting out of the door and then I think I smelled something strange," Stevie said.

"I recall the smell too. I turned to ask you what the smell could be but then everything went dark," Malena confirmed.

"Why are we so calm?" Stevie asked.

"What do you mean?" the other girl asked.

"We are in a strange place, tied up and by the fact that neither one of us can recall how we got here, we should both be freaking out, but instead we are here talking about this like this was some political history assignment we are trying to figure out," Stevie said. Malena turned quiet.

"Don't take me wrong, I think we should stay calm, but I also think we should be in a state of mind where we tell each other to stay calm, not really be calm," Stevie continued.

"You are right. So, did someone drug us?" Malena asked.

"I think so. So, the smell was some kind of gas?" Stevie suggested.

"I would think so," Malena agreed again.

"Why do you think my boss is weird?" Stevie asked.

"The little man? Well… think of it. He comes to Pauline's and my room to talk to Pauline like she was someone important. I don't say she isn't important, I'm just thinking why the hell the White House Chief of Staff would bother with a girl who should be pretty much indifferent to him," Malena said.

"How does that make Russell weird?" Stevie asked.

"Do you have a crush on your boss?" Malena asked. Stevie burst out in uncontrollable laughter.

"What?!" she asked as soon as she managed to inhale enough air to speak.

"Is he why you left Jareth? Are you sleeping with your boss?" Malena asked.

"Oh, dear lord! NO! I am not sleeping with Russell Jackson!" Stevie puffed and started laughing again.

"But you like him?" Malena asked. Stevie took deep breaths.

"I don't know if I like him but I'm not so much afraid of him anymore. He is human. I mean before I thought he was more like a heartless beast but after he had a heart attack and after seeing another side of him, I know he is human and actually a pretty good man. I respect him. But I do not want to sleep with him. Now or never," Stevie said.

"OK. I was just asking," Malena said.

"So, how does talking with Pauline make Russell weird?" Stevie asked.

"It is just really hard to understand why he would care. Is he having an affair with Pauline?" Malena kept on asking. 'What the hell?' Stevie thought.

"No, I really doubt Russell Jackson is having an affair with anyone. He is pretty much head over heels for his wife," Stevie said.

"OK that is good. He was married before, right?" Malena went on. Stevie replied yes, but the situation bothered her more and more. Why would Malena Hunter want to know so much about Russell Jackson, whom she had met briefly. Stevie couldn't even remember Russell saying hello to Malena.

"I guess having a doctor wife is pretty good when you have a heart condition. Carol is a surgeon, right?" Malena said. Stevie said yes to that too and felt her nose itch. She rubbed her face against the pillow and then her entire body went rigid. 'How the hell does she know about Russell's marriage, former and present?' Something was even more wrong. But if Stephanie McCord had learned something from her parent's work, it was to not reveal all your cards right away.

"My nose is itching," Stevie said to explain her silence.

"Mine too," Malena said.

"If someone sprayed some gas on our faces, that could be the reason," Stevie suggested.

"Yes, I agree," Malena followed suit. Stevie decided to test the girl.

"I also have a weird taste in my mouth. Like I ate a bad apple," Stevie said and pretended to spit. Almost immediately Malena started spitting too.

"Yeah, me too," she said. Stevie spat a few more times and then she pulled away from the pillow. Whatever this was, Malena was somehow in it. The entire situation was completely weird and distorted. Stephanie realized that Malena had to be in on the kidnapping. Who had taken her and where was her DS detail? She knew they had taken another door and she had asked him to wait in the car, so they wouldn't draw so much attention. Was someone already looking for her or did everyone think she had stayed at the dorm after long study night? Turning and tossing Stevie managed to get her hand under her, to check her jeans pockets. The left one was empty but in the right one she felt her phone. What kind of kidnappers these were if they didn't take her cellphone away from her? Amateurs. These people weren't doing this for the money. They wanted something else from her.


	12. Chapter 12

**He gets it, Russell finally gets it and the mystery is starting to unwrap but did he connect the dots too late?!**

* * *

"I need to see those detectives," Russell said. Carol took his phone and called the police station. The detectives promised to visit the hospital as soon as possible and they were true to their word: they showed up in less than half an hour.

"What the hell happen to you? I mean… Mr. Jackson… sir," Burns asked.

"This is my wife, Dr. Carol Jackson," Russell introduced with slightly annoyed tone. He used the F-word and all the other cuss-words generously, but he practically never cursed in front of Carol.

"Dr. Jackson," detective Grier greeted.

"Hello. Last night someone lured my husband outside to the garden and attacked him. He got several hits and kicks to his head and to the body. There are broken ribs, swelling in the brain and he has some issues with the eyesight," Carol said.

"How's the memory?" Burns asked.

"He has trouble with short term memory but that is not why you were called here," Carol said.

"Do you wish to report the assault?" Grier wanted to know.

"I don't have a choice in that matter but that is not the issue here. I know who the assailant is, and I think I know who raped Pauline," Russell Jackson interrupted. Burns and Grier stepped closer.

"Please, tell us," Grier said.

"I also think I know who raped Claudia Milton," Jackson added.

"Who?" Burns asked.

"Mitch Farrell," Russell Jackson said.

"Can you elaborate a bit?" Grier asked.

"Have a seat. This is a long story," Jackson said. The detectives found chairs and Carol sat on the edge of the bed. Russell pushed the button than lifted the top of his bed, so he got to a better position.

"Mitch Farrell lived across the street from Sarah and me when I was married the first time. He had a habit of getting close. We had barbeques and outdoors parties and he would always be there. Not that he wasn't invited but the four women, my wife and her three best friends sometimes mentioned that Mitch had a nasty habit of getting too close, to skin. He would touch people, if it was only an arm or shoulder but he was very touchy-feely, and it wasn't always very nice for the women he touched. He seemed to have an issue with Sarah who slapped him once I think but his real obsession was Claudia Milton. She was single, and Farrell could never get over the fact that she wasn't head over heels for him. On the night Claudia disappeared Farrell was, by the alibi he gave to the police, in Boston. He had train tickets to prove it and no one really probably told the police about his habit of coming to our parties to spend time with Claudia. I think it was the shock of something like that actually happening to someone so close to us. So, Mitch was overlooked as a suspect," Jackson told the police and then reached for a glass of water. Carol helped him drink and the detectives waited until he was ready to continue.

"Today… no, yesterday I guess, I went to see the Secretary of State Elizabeth McCord and I told her about the night Claudia went missing. She made me close my eyes and remember everything from the bar my friends and I spent the evening. I didn't recall it then but when I was laying on the garage floor and Mitch Farrell appeared at the door, I suddenly remembered something I haven't thought about in well over 20 years. McCord asked me if there was anyone else at the bar I could have recognized, and I said no. But all this time a figure in the far corner table has bothered me some. I can remember him turning away from me and covering his face with a hood. I thought he was someone I knew through work, I never saw his face, but I didn't need to. Tonight, seeing Mitch Farrell standing in the threshold, I recalled the way he moved his head, like he was headbutting a soccer ball. I had seen Mitch do that dozens of times and I saw the man in the far corner table at the bar do it and tonight the assailant stood there and headbutted an invisible ball. Tonight, I didn't see his face, I just saw the headbutt and I heard his voice, and something just clicked. Mitch Farrell was not in Boston when Claudia Milton was raped. He was in that bar. Now I know you will ask me how the hell a man who was 35 or 40 at the time could be capable of raping someone now. I don't think he is. I think that Pauline was raped by Mitch's nephew Michael," Jackson said.

"Based on what?" Burns asked.

"The same night when Pauline was attacked, I interviewed Michael Farrell for an internship at the White House. We met at a hotel bar and by some weird coincidence my intern, Stephanie McCord happened to show up. She was expecting company. When I went to the men's room, Michael walked to Stevie, touched her, she asked him to stop and he didn't. He is exactly like his uncle. He was thrown out of the hotel bar and I think he waited and followed Stevie. You need to ask her where she went from the bar, but I can tell you already I'm pretty sure of her answer: she went to the library, met Pauline and Pauline left before Stevie. They look alike in daylight. In the dark they are like two berries in a pie. Michael followed Pauline, tried to take her with him but she found and then the arrogant bastard raped her," Jackson finished his theory-based story.

"That is… that is a huge pile of theories and assumptions," Grier said. Russell Jackson nodded.

"I know. I know it sounds crazy, but it also makes a lot of sense," he said.

"What did you mean when you said that the Secretary of State asked you to remember everything from the bar?" Burns asked.

"I have photographic memory. It's a little stained from that night due to overly excessive alcohol consumption but I remember the headbutt. The booze just stopped me from connecting the people. I guess I also didn't want to think that a rapist could live across the street from me. Mentally I willed him to be someone I didn't know. But this… Mitch and Michael Farrell. It fits everything," Jackson said.

Right on the cue the Secretary of State Elizabeth McCord and POTUS walked in.

"Russell, Stephanie is missing," Bess said.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a cool breeze when the door opened. Stephanie looked towards the sound of creaking hinge.

"Good morning ladies," she heard a voice. Two men walked in. The light was turned on and it took a moment for Stevie's eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"You!" Stevie uttered. The asshole who hit Russell Jackson. The guy Jackson had interviewed for internship.

"Yes, me," Michael Farrell said.

"Who's the other whacko?" Stevie asked. Michael slapped her.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" he yelled. The other man sat on the side of the bed and caressed Stevie's leg.

"You little tiger. Don't expect to be given any points for playing tough. I will… no, we will teach you to understand your place. You are nothing! Nothing! You little whore!" the man started calm but the rest of his words came out as a scream. At the same time the caress turned into slapping. Stevie tried to hold it but in the end she screamed of pain.

"Why…?" Stevie sobbed.

"Why what?" the older man asked.

"Why did you take … us?" Stevie asked. She almost asked 'me' but she didn't want Malena to know she had realized the truth about her.

"Let me tell you a little story. My name is Mitch Farrell. I used to live across the street from that arrogant little fuck Russell Jackson. Him and his perfect wife Sarah who was always telling me how I should live my life. What a bitch! Then I met this pretty woman, Claudia. We liked each other a lot but guess who destroyed it? That fucking bitch Sarah! She thought she had the right to get involved. We were perfect for each other, Claudia and me! Just perfect. We took long walks in the park and every Saturday we went to the sports hall to swim. But then that fucking bitch turned her against me. No more walks, no more swimming. I couldn't even visit her at the office anymore. That cunt Sarah who thought that being married to some fucking Harvard lawyer made her Queen fucking Elizabeth. I know… I simply know that Russell-fucking-Jackson was behind it somehow. We never saw eye to eye about anything. He would borrow me a lawnmower and the next day come back and say I've had it for over a month and he needed it back. The fucking liar! Same with all the other stuff he ever borrowed to me. Then the same shit with their fucking garden parties. I would go there and I had told him like a thousand times that I couldn't eat the hotdogs because there was pork in those and I just fucking don't eat pork. Every fucking time the same thing!" Mitch Farrell said. In the end he was losing his temper again. Michael went to Malena and caressed her face. Stevie saw the touch and the incredibly worshipping look she gave him.

"I don't understand. How is this connected to… us?" Stevie kept on playing dumb about Malena.

"You are Russell Jackson's little whore!" Mitch screamed.

"What? No!" Stevie yelled back. Mitch slapped her hard. Blood burst in her mouth and she cried out.

"You are his whore! He talked back to my nephew to protect you! That fucking asshole thinks you would be worth defending! Like a fucking little whore was ever worth anything! He didn't call about the job to Michael!" Mitch screamed and slapped Stevie again. Her eyes grew wide. That idiot Michael had hit Russell Jackson and this imbecile thought Russell would hire the kid still.

"He hit Russell! Your idiot nephew hit Russell!" Stevie couldn't help herself. The next slap was harder than any of the previous ones.

"You fucking stupid whore! Jackson deserved that! He deserved what I did to him too!" Mitch yelled. Stevie froze.

"What you did?" she asked, horrified. Mitch laughed.

"I just hit him a couple of times and perhaps a few well aimed kicks landed on his worthless body," the man said. Stevie felt her blood turn ice cold.

"Did… did you kill him?" she asked.

"Could be… you'll never find that out, bitch!" Mitch screamed. That was when Stevie understood: they were never going to let her out. That's why they didn't care about her seeing their faces. She wouldn't live to tell about them.


	14. Chapter 14

_**I am so very very sorry for leaving you all hanging for such a long time. Or I guess I should apologize Stevie for leaving her in that horrible place for over three weeks.**_

 _ **The company I work for went through a pretty hectic branding and now that is finally done and I get back to Stevie and the rest of the gang :)**_

 _ **Thank you all for reviews and the support I've been getting. Lets see how this goes.**_

* * *

The shrieking sound of flatline alarmed everyone in the hospital room. All eyes were turned on POTUS and Elizabeth McCord at the door but when the machine started screaming, people turned to see the patient. Instead of fighting for his life, Russell Jackson was already on his feet, pulling off the tubes and wires that were attached to his body.

"Russell!" Carol exclaimed. The man rushed by her to the cabin and took his blood-stained shirt out. A nurse and two doctors ran in expecting to start CPR but instead they were stopped by POTUS's DS detail and amazed to see Russell Jackson on his feet, getting dressed in a hurry.

"Mr. Jackson, what are you doing?" Detective Grier asked.

"Russell! What the hell?" POTUS joined the choir. Carol sat down on the hospital bed.

"Do you know where she is?" she asked. Jackson looked at his wife and shook his head.

"No, but I have ways to find her," he said.

"What kind of ways?" Burns wanted to know. Jackson didn't answer right away. He finished getting dressed and then he turned to look at them all.

"They can't be at a hotel. They wouldn't risk getting heard. So there has to be property of some kind where they stay," he said. Elizabeth McCord nodded.

"Good thinking," she said. Her mind was still working through the whole 'Stevie is missing' – thought. Half of her was sure her eldest daughter would call any moment, apologizing for being late and unavailable but the other half was screaming in horror, fearing for her child's safety.

Jackson seemed to be on some sacred mission when he rushed out of the hospital and barked at POTUS's DS to drive them to the White House. Conrad Dalton and Elizabeth McCord sat in silence and changed glances. Jackson was tapping his cellphone fiercely.

"Russell…" POTUS started. Jackson's quick look was mostly annoyed.

"Yes, Mr. President?" he asked though.

"Can you tell us what is going on?" Dalton inquired. Russell looked at them like they had lost their mind.

"Am I in some other dimension or didn't you two just tell me that Stephanie McCord is missing?" he asked.

"Well… yes…" POTUS started.

"Twenty years ago Mitch Farrell tortured a woman for three entire days, escalating step by step. I told you I would rip the fucker's throat wide open if he ever touched Stevie. I don't know if he has, but if yes, you can rest assured he won't live to tell the tale," Jackson said. He wasn't shouting. Somehow the low, calm voice was far more chilling than his usual tantrums.

The vehicle stopped and they got out. Jackson didn't pay much attention to anything or anyone. He just stormed to his own office. Elizabeth followed him. Without even trying to hide what he was doing, Russell Jackson pulled a 9mm pistol out of his drawer, laid it on the desk and took a box of bullets from the other drawer.

"Russell!" Elizabeth breathed.

"Don't try to tell me you don't want him dead," Jackson said without looking at her. With unexpected expertise the Chief of Staff clicked the clip out, slipped the bullets in place and loaded the gun.

"What the hell are you planning, Russell?" Bess asked. Jackson looked at her. His eyes screamed murder.

"Mitch Farrell will not hurt Stevie," he said.


	15. Chapter 15

She's still ok. I just had to pop in a short one to let you know that!

* * *

Stephanie McCord moved her hips slowly. Malena seemed to be asleep, but nothing was sure so Stevie avoided all sounds. The lights were on and she listened eagerly to hear when the Farrell's would come back. It seemed crazy. Uncle-nephew killer-rapist duo. With a neat abbreviation they could form a band, Stevie thought.

The strap holding Stevie down was a tight-tied cloth. It gave in some, but she still couldn't wriggle herself free. The bed also wasn't very quiet, so she didn't risk being heard. Stevie realized it made no difference that she had her phone: she couldn't call anyone without alerting Malena. But could she send a message to someone?

Pushing with knees she turned on her side and coughed loudly. Sliding her fingers inside the pocket didn't take much effort and she pulled the mobile phone out. Her back was now tuned to Malena and she coughed again. Then she took deep breaths and slid back on her belly. The cloth around her waist seemed to tighten again. Stevie bent her knee and turned her head enough to see Malena. She was still in the same exact position, but Stevie wasn't sure if she was really asleep. It just was a risk she had to take. She also knew she would have to be very fast. Searching for a phone number would take too long so she would use the latest one she had used. Very carefully she formed the message in her mind. Then she took a deep breath, tapped the screen and sent a message.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!**_

* * *

The unmistakable 'cling' of received message froze the blood in Stevie McCord's veins. Her phone was on silent, so it had to be Malena's. That's when it hit her. The last number she had used. It had to be Malena. They had set a meeting at the campus café to pick up hot drinks and some snacks for their study session. Stevie wanted to hit herself. She had just revealed her whole deck of cards by sending Malena the plea for help.

Malena pretty much copied Stevie's previous turn-cough-cough-move maneuver in order to hide the fact that she had her cellphone still. Weird. Didn't she know that the Farrell's didn't take Stevie's phone? Obviously she thought they had taken it but the truth would be revealed to her in mere moments. 'How could I be so damned stupid?!' Stevie mocked herself. Knowing it would make no difference if she revealed now that she was awake and had heard the 'cling', Stevie still held herself still. The message had been clear and Stevie was sure that Henry McCord would understand it. The messages she and her father had sent to each other before her meeting with Malena had been mostly about a family Saturday but in no way would anyone believe her 'HELP!' text was related to the previous messages even if she told Malena the text was supposed to go to her father. What the hell was she thinking? As soon as Malena would realize Stevie had her phone still and was able to use it, she would go berserk.

The door opened. Stevie was still facing away from Malena and she did her best to look like she was just waking up.

"What is it?" she heard the younger Farrell ask quietly.

"A text," Malena whispered.

"From whom?"

"Pauline. The girl… well you know who," she replied. Stevie wanted to cry out of relief. The text didn't go to Malena. She should have really checked what she was doing but she was too afraid that the glow from the screen would alarm Malena, even when the lights were on.

"Wha… what?" Stevie muttered. Malena hid the phone and looked at her.

"No, nothing. He just came to… check on us," she said. Stevie wanted to spit her in the face. She wanted to actually hit the little bitch like Michael had hit Russell Jackson. Only harder. A lot harder. Jackson was not wrong when he had said that Stevie could do better than that wussy.

"Oh… ok," Stevie said and laid back down on her side. She closed her eyes and heard Malena giggle a little. To keep herself calm Stevie thought about the message she had sent to Henry:

"Snatched. Behind camp lib. Backdoor. Gas. HELP!" Malena would have understood that completely, she could only hope that her father would too. Well, Mum would help, that was for sure. Suddenly she started thinking of Russell Jackson again. What had been done to him? The older Farrell seemed to hate the man passionately. Stevie looked at the wall where she could see a window that was covered with cardboard. Was this an abandoned house of some kind? But if it was, how come the electricity worked. As hard as she tried she couldn't hear anything. No traffic, no sirens. No light came from anywhere except the lamp in the ceiling. That she had noticed before the lights were turned on. If this was a basement, she could have understood it but no basement would have had such large windows. Nothing made sense.


	17. Chapter 17

_I have so very badly left Stevie McCord in a horrible place for months. The fault is all mine or actually work and other stupid stuff life brings in. I apologize to you all and promise a speedy recovery for this story._

 _Here goes…_

* * *

Pauline stared at her phone. She had sent a text to Malena asking her if she would come to the dorm for the night like she had promised to but there was no reply from her. Instead there was a super-weird text from Stevie McCord. On any other time, she would have texted her back asking what the heck she was playing at but not now. Malena could have, might have, joked about something right now but Pauline knew that Stevie would never try to scare her. Ever. She didn't find words to tell how much it meant that Stevie's boss had come to see her, encourage her and Pauline was sure it was all Stevie's doing. Malena had been acting weird all along. Coming and going, not staying with her as she had promised and then she had tried to find all the clothes she was wearing that night like the police had asked. Her panties were missing. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find them anywhere. Everything else was stacked in the corner, but the panties weren't there. Yet she could remember taking them off when she came back to the dorm and tried to go to the shower but luckily Stevie had been there to stop her. Malena had tried to talk her over to let Pauline take the shower because she was freezing, and it would have warmed her up, but Stevie had kept on saying she shouldn't do it.

And now this text. 'Snatched. Behind camp lib. Backdoor. Gas. HELP!'. The capitalized help chilled her bones. Stevie hated caps and usually mocked people for using those. She had even asked her boss to stop using those or, so she had said. Pauline wouldn't have dared to tell that scary little man to do anything. Thinking of Russell Jackson helped her make up her mind. She opened her purse and fished out a calling card Jackson had left for her. She turned it around and found his personal number. Biting her lip, checking the time, swallowing hard and then making up her mind she took her phone and dialed the number.

"Hello?" came the bark-like reply.

"Hello… ummm… Mr. Jackson?" Pauline said quietly.

"Pauline, what can I do for you?" the man said with much softer tone.

"I know this is probably a bad time and it might be nothing, but I got this super-strange text message from Stevie McCord," she said.

"Pauline, end this call, lay your phone on a desk and I will be there in ten minutes," Jackson said, and the line went dead. Pauline pressed the 'end call' button and did exactly as Jackson had ordered. She sat on her bed, waiting for the man to arrive and then the cell phone screen lit up and she got a message from Malena. She could see part of the text on the screen, but she didn't dare to lift the phone in her hand to read the rest. Only moments later Russell Jackson and Secretary of State Elizabeth McCord stepped in the room. Someone with electronical devises came in too and took her phone.

"A text just came from Malena. She is with Stevie," Pauline said. Jackson and McCord looked at each other and the woman sat next to Pauline.

"Hi, I'm Stevie's mom…"

"I know," Pauline said quietly. Elizabeth wrapped her hand around Pauline.

"I know what was done to you and I am so incredibly sorry. The situation now is that Stevie is missing. You say she is with this friend of yours, Malena?" McCord asked. Pauline nodded.

"I only saw part of Malena's text, but she says so," she said.

"Does Malena have a boyfriend?" Russell Jackson asked. Pauline nodded.

"Yeah, he is dating this super-idiot called Mike. They've known each other since they were ten or something and I think she's totally under his thumb," she said.

"Mike… who?" Jackson asked.

"Mike… oh let me check," Pauline said and got up. She flipped open a notebook that was on the desk and showed it to Jackson.

"Mike Farrell," she said.

"Son of a bitch!" Jackson spat, and Pauline trembled. He realized his mistake and sat on the edge of the other bed.

"I'm sorry, Pauline. I didn't mean to scare you," he said. McCord seemed to stare at the small man. Obviously, apologies were not his usual style.

"We need an active text or phone call to trace them fast. Otherwise we'll need to get the information the long way," the technician said.

"Pauline, could you text Malena back?" Elizabeth McCord asked.

"Sure. What do you want me to say to her?" Pauline asked, ready to help them in any way. Partly out of fear because Russell Jackson looked like he was about to break something and partly because if this meant that Malena would get in trouble, with the way she had ditched Pauline when she really needed a friend, she deserved to get into a jam of some kind.

"The text she sent you says 'I'm with Stevie McCord. Sorry for being late.' Could you ask her how late she will be because you fell like you should get some rest?" Elizabeth McCord suggested reading the phone screen.

"Did she actually write that?" Pauline asked. Jackson nodded.

"Yes. Why?"

"Check her texts. Any of them," Pauline said, and Jackson took the phone from McCord. He scrolled the screen and huffed.

"'Gonna c M. Cya lat!'. I get it. Why would a girl with such fine penmanship suddenly use real words," he asked, voice seeping sarcasm.

"Please text her back like you would, asking what I just asked you to say," McCord said. Pauline nodded, took the phone and texted, showing the screen to Elizabeth all the time. A few minutes later the phone vibrated.

"I got the cell tower," the technician said.

"She says 'I don't know. I'm really sorry about this. I'll get there as soon as I can.'," Pauline said.

"As if," Jackson snorted. Then he got up and took his own phone.

"I need someone to take Pauline someplace safe for the night," he said to one of the bulky agents outside on the corridor. Then he excused himself and went outside. Elizabeth McCord hugged Pauline, thanked her for helping them and followed Jackson. He was talking on the phone.

"Anything and everything," he ordered and ended the call.

"Anything and everything what?" McCord asked. Jackson was pacing around like a tiger in a cage.

"The place where they keep Stevie can't be a hotel like I said. They can't risk her screaming and giving up their location that way. I have no idea why they let Stevie keep her phone. Mitch on the other hand is so full of himself that I doubt he would even realize to check. Mike… it's hard to say. All I know about him is that he is arrogant and young, which is a dangerous combination. Now the weird thing is that Mike dates a girl who looks like a woman Mitch raped and mutilated some 30 years ago. Part of me fears she is doing them both. OK, that was sick, even from me," the man admitted. Elizabeth took a firm hold of his arm.

"Tell me this: what do they want from Stevie?" she asked. Jackson didn't seem too eager to answer but then he sighed deeply.

"Stevie talked back to Mike at the restaurant. That was one thing Mitch could never handle. I remember him slapping a woman once for doing that. If Mike is anything like Mitch, that is enough reason to take her," he said.

"A paypack?" Bess asked. Russell nodded.

"Tell me you can find them," Bess said.

"If Mitch, Mike or anyone in the Farrell family or this Malena's family owns any property anywhere near the cell tower the text linked from, we will find them," Jackson said.

"If not?" Bess asked.

"Then… I have no idea. Yet," he admitted.


	18. Chapter 18

Fifteen minutes later Russell Jackson got the call he had been waiting for.

"Bess, we found something. There's an apartment building in the next block where the cell tower is," Jackson said.

"Who owns it?" Bess asked.

"Irrelevant but it's condemned and waiting to be demolished. For now nothing's happening because a construction company is collecting some valuable materials there," Jackson explained. Bess McCord's face didn't promise anything good for Jackson if he wouldn't start explaining the situation.

"OK, here's the catch. Mitch Farrell works for the company that is collecting the materials there. He is a foreman there," Russell said.

"That's thin," Bess said. Jackson huffed.

"Tell me about it but that's all we got for now," he said and called the cops. He was no lone ranger and he had no intention to use the gun he had unless he absolutely had to. Yes, he had a license for it and yes, he even knew how to use it but shooting someone was not very high on his priority list. He could fuck Mitch and Mike Farrell so many other ways that shooting holes in them would simply be waste of good metal. But if those assholes had in any way shape or form hurt Stevie McCord…

"Get moving then!" Bess barked at him and he followed her.

The police were waiting outside the building like they had been ordered.

"Go through every room and stay as quiet as you can. We don't want this to escalate into a hostage situation," the captain said. Eight officers with detectives Burns and Grier went inside the apartment building. DS agent Matt, to whom Secretary McCord's life was the priority, kept the car doors closed. He didn't really care if Jackson would run into the building, but the Secretary would only get there over his dead body.

"I hate waiting," Bess said. Jackson looked at her and then laid his hand on hers.

"I know… but you running in there wouldn't really help and I doubt he would let you get anywhere near that door," he said, nodding towards the DS agent, who frowned and looked at them.

"He is right," the agent said. Their wait ended a lot sooner than they expected. Suddenly they saw Stevie McCord and Malena walk out of the building, wrapped in blankets. the DS Agent opened his door and Stevie was brought to them. In moments she was in her mother's arms.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Stevie whispered. The police took Malena to an ambulance and an EMT came to see Stevie. When Malena was far enough Stevie turned to see Bess.

"She is in it!" she hissed. Russell Jackson laid his hand on her shoulder.

"We know," he said in a low voice.

"Just… try to make sure she doesn't know that you know," Bess said. Jackson got out of the car and went to the ambulance.

"Hi, Malena. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" he asked. His voice was low and seemed kind.

"No, I'm fine. They didn't hurt me," Malena said.

"They will take you to the hospital just to make sure," Russell told her.

"What about Stevie?" Malena asked.

"She will also be taken to a hospital," Jackson assured her.

"How did you find us?" Malena asked. Jackson smiled. Anyone who didn't know the man could have said it was a kind smile.

"Stevie managed to send a text message to her father, asking for help," Jackson lied. OK, partly lied, he said to himself.

"Oh…" Malena said. She obviously didn't know Stevie had had her phone with her.

"We should take her," the EMT said.

"Yes," Jackson just commented, backed away from the ambulance and then asked the police to stay with the girl no matter what.

"You don't even let her pee without someone keeping her on eye. And for crying out loud take her phone!" he said. Detective Grier walked to him.

"You know, we do know how to do our jobs," she said. Jackson sighed.

"I'm sure you do," he said.

"You did us a favor by finding this place but there's no sign of the people who took them," the detective said.

"If I know Stevie McCord at all, her testimony alone will put the Farrells behind bars for a long time. All you have to do is find them," Jackson commented and went back to Secretary McCord's car.

"Are you alright?" Stevie asked right away.

"I thought you were the one who was kidnapped," Jackson said.

"Yeah but that Farrell asshole bragged how he had beat you up," Stevie said.

"I'm OK," Russell said slightly unconvincingly and got in the car.

"Hospital?" Matt asked.

"Stevie?" Elizabeth inquired. The younger McCord shook her head.

"I'm totally fine. Hungry, thirsty and dirty but fine. Also, I'm kind of pissed," she admitted. Russell Jackson grinned widely.

"That's my girl," he said, laughing softly.

"Home then?" Elizabeth said.

"No. White House. That goes for your entire family. Until the Farrell assholes are in police custody, I don't want any of you running around anywhere," Jackson ordered. He tapped Matt's wide shoulder and he nodded. The order to get Professor McCord, Allie and Jason to the White House got to the DS agents in moments.

"What about Pauline?" Stevie asked.

"She is already there," Russell said.

"What will happen to Malena?" Stevie wanted to know.

"She will be kept at the hospital for the evening and night. The cops will ask her questions but not indicate we know about her part in this. I hope she will slip. If she won't they will tighten the screws," Jackson replied. Elizabeth looked at the two. Her daughter who in the last few months had grown from perky, back-talking student into an intelligent, strong woman and the man who had first made Bess want to murder him but who turned out to be an ally she wouldn't want to lose. Even with all his quirks, Russell Jackson was probably one of the best friends Bess had ever had or could ever have. She knew how he usually felt about interns and it almost made her laugh how Stevie had obviously changed his mind. There was no doubt in the Secretary's mind that had Stevie been hurt by the Farrell's, Jackson would have used the gun. She knew she would sleep better knowing that.

"How can she date someone like Mike Farrell?" Stevie asked. She was on a question mode.

"If Mike is anything like Mitch, he can be pretty convincing, but I fear this Malena girl isn't quite right in the head," Russell said.

"I agree. She was acting weird all along. It makes me sick to think that she knew who raped Pauline and she just acted like her best friend anyways," Stevie said.


End file.
